2013-05-05

“You’re
silent as stars,” Caspian said, coming up the cliff behind Lani on one evening
when fall was very near. The sun clung to the sky, casting its desperate
fingers over the water, over Lani, over Caspian.

“I found
it,” she answered, corralling her hair over one shoulder so that it would not
whip him in the face when he came near. From within the fold of her voluminous
robes, she withdrew a coarsely wrapped object.

“You found
what?”

“The wish.”

Caspian
took it with fumbling hands, wondering why the feeling behind his sternum felt
more like desperation than joy. He had to see it. And then he did. It was a
piece of glass.

“Something
of sea and sky,” he murmured, smoothing fingers over it.

“Made by
lightning, smoothed by the ocean.”

“How is it
a wish?” He handed the shining glass back to her.

“I’ll show
you.” Her voice was very sad.

Lani held
up the mirror toward the waning sun, which glinted off the ocean-polished
surface to catch the eye of the last of the summer trade boats. There was a
series of flashes in return.

“If I flash
back, they’ll come for us.”

Though she
made a move to do just that, Caspian’s hands were in the way.

“Don’t.”
His heart was tapping enthusiastically against his chest, and when he looked at
the boat, all he felt was sickly sweet dread.

“Don’t?”

“You said
we’d wish for the same thing, in the end. All I want is to stay here. With
you.”

Though the
muscles of her face wanted to stretch with contentment, Lani held them in
check.

“I’d go
with you, if you went,” she clarified. Caspian shook his head, terrified now.
Without thinking, desperate, Caspian’s hand darted out to take the glass and
throw it into the sea. It gleamed like a falling star as it went.